


The Sunday of the village

by raven_lore



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag: Inferno, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_lore/pseuds/raven_lore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A storm has passed, another will come. In between they rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sunday of the village

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story just after Inferno aired... yes, I am that slow. Anyway, I choose to believe that it's a much better story now because of the time I spent on it. Still, it would have many more flaws if it wasn't for the support and beta performed by the-green-sheep, jenlev and troyswann. Thank you for everything. All remaining mistakes are, of course, my fault.

On Earth it's a Monday. Or maybe a Tuesday. Lieutenant Hutchinson is not sure and spends his whole shift in the Atlantean Gateroom trying to figure it out.

Of the two teams that return from off-world missions, one brings back a promising commercial treaty, the other just a boring report to be written.

For both activations the Gateroom comes alive, but it quickly settles back into the soft hum of ordinary work and daily check-ups too often pushed to the bottom of the to-do list by life-threatening emergencies.

At the end of her shift at the long-range sensors, Miko stands up. She is passing by the main console when the Sergeant, seemingly busy checking the gate console, says to her, "See you". Miko falters in her step, a shy smile on her face. Then he's looking straight at her, and, as she bows slightly in acknowledgment, she notices that he's grinning as well.

At the opposite side of the room, Major Lorne walks on after having checked in with the Lieutenant, nonchalantly covering every sign that he might have noticed the exchange. The sentries are at their posts, the armoury is inventoried. As he leaves the Gateroom, he's considering a long, relaxing soak under the shower.

By the door Doctor Schmidt is playing 'prime, not prime' with Johnson. Lorne almost shakes his head as the Marine uses one of the four digit numbers they have checked on the computer looking for tricky primes. It wouldn't fool anyone from the scientific department, but it will probably work with people from medical. Still…

"It's not wise to cheat with them." Radek's words, as the scientist reaches his side and falls into step with him, give voice to Lorne's own worries, "They do not like it and they usually get vengeance when you end up in infirmary."

"No kidding," Lorne snorts, the significant number of his own visits to the infirmary far too clear in his mind. "I'll tell the boys to be more careful."

Radek nods, "Do that."

"I didn't see you in the Gateroom."

"I was just coming down from the Jumper bay as you were leaving. I needed something to eat."

Lorne doesn't point out that the quickest way to the mess is through the transport on the other side of the room they are leaving behind them. He doesn't say anything about the shower he's been considering either. What he actually says is, "My shift is almost over. We could grab something together."

"Good. I'll see you there then."

With that, Radek walks away, turning left as Lorne steps outside through one of the balcony doors on their right. In five minutes he will complete his perimeter walk and find himself by another transporter, just a quick beam away from the mess. It will take Radek five minutes to get there by the long route he's chosen. As usual. Over Lorne's head the sky is blue, clear but for a few clouds scattered around, waiting for someone to see fairy tales, space ships or turtles in their shapes.

~~~

Kate isn't looking for fairies, though, as she watches the sky from the couch in her office, her files spread by her side.

"If you're tired, we can take a break, eat something."

"No," Kate tears her eyes away from the sky and focuses her attention back on Carson. He's sitting by her desk, his files piled upon it. "I know you want to oversee Simpson's experiment this afternoon. And I'm not tired, it's just…" she pauses, not looking for words, but for a way to explain it without actually saying anything. "You know," she ends lamely, hoping that it will be enough.

Carson nods and picks up another file. "Only three left, it shouldn't take that long."  
They're not superstitious; they don't really believe that saying something could spoil the quietness. But they hadn't believed in space vampires either.

Pushing away the thought, Kate reads the next name, "Lieutenant Laura Cadman."  
Carson blushes slightly and, feeling her eyes on him, offers a mumbled, "I might be slightly biased on her account."

"Then it's a good thing that you're doing the medical evaluation, while I take care of the psychological one."

Her reward is a soft smile, before Carson starts reading his own notes on Laura: no delayed effects of her prolonged dematerialization inside the dart or of her connection with Rodney. But, as he reads on, Carson's thoughts turn toward Kate's words. He wonders if there's a name on their list that means as much to Kate. Someone **she** might be biased about. Maybe he should ask her about it. He should invite her to dinner one of these nights and let her talk. Or maybe he should make it a suggestion to Elizabeth. Or Laura. That's it. He will ask her opinion when she comes back from the mainland.

~~~

A few miles from the Athosian settlement the sun shines brightly. No clouds here: a stronger wind is blowing, its steadfast breath grating on Laura's nerves. She's tired of waiting for it to shift so that they might launch an attack on their prey. Halling has explained how these beasts can smell a hunter from very far away and how the change in the wind will give them their only chance to get close enough for the killing. Laura has wanted to point out that she could take out the animal with her P90 without getting close, but she knows they actually need to learn this stuff as much as the Athosians need training with their weapons.

So she remains silent and stays put, trying to find something interesting in the scenery. The wild flowers growing a few feet from her hiding place are not that bad. Maybe she could pick up some later and take them back to her room in Atlantis. The image of the clumsy composition that would end up on her desk almost makes her laugh out loud. It shouldn't be that hard to put a few flowers in a vase and have them looking good, but past experiences have proven her wrong. She'd even gone to Miko once, asking her about that famous Japanese art of arranging flowers. Miko had fled. Only later Laura had discovered that Miko is as bad at 'ikebana' as herself and that for her it is cause of deep embarrassment. Apparently her family, in spite of being proud of her scientific achievements, is worried that she might never find a husband. Laura had snorted and said that it was ridiculous. Miko had blushed and lowered her eyes.  
"And, by the way, I know a Canadian Sergeant who is trying to find a way to ask you out and I bet a few badly arranged flowers won't change his mind."

The bright, incredulous expression on Miko's face had told Laura that she'd finally got it right. She would never confide it to anyone, but she suspects that her experience with McKay wasn't too traumatic because they share a few traits, a certain bull-in-a-china-shop approach to social situations included.

Suddenly the energy seems to build all around her. She turns to find the other hunters tensing, all clearly aware of it. A moment later the wind changes and Halling gives the signal. The prey is theirs. Teyla is going to have her party.

~~~

Back at the settlement Teyla arches back on her borrowed bed, hidden behind barred windows and closed doors, Ronon kneeling between her legs. They came to the mainland to go hunting, to be part of the routine. But they can still feel the ashes on their skin, can still taste them in their mouths. Today, they are hunted.

Ronon slides his hands, big, strong, up and down her legs, as he kisses her inner thighs, inch after inch, soft brushes of lips and the light scrape of his beard interspersed with small bites. Teyla's fists close around the covers, the soft texture of the Athosian sheets cool against her heated skin , but as he stops moving, seemingly lost in the taste of her skin, she reaches out and tangles one hand in his hair, pulling him towards her, demanding and harsh. Maybe even too harsh, but she doesn't care. She can. She's strong enough, not weakening. Alive. They are both alive. She has no doubt that Ronon understands.

He's taking her with his mouth, his tongue as pressing as the marks he's leaving on her hips. It's too much, too little. She's close, but she needs more. She tries to arch into him once more, but he won't let her.

"Ronon," an order, her voice low, primal. She tightens her hold on his hair and he slows down. He licks her once more, slowly, so slowly that it's almost torture. He's looking at her, straight in the eye, trying to prove that he has control over this. They both knows it's a lie.

They have given up control; otherwise they would be out hunting. Control is something they possessed last night, when they each slept in their own beds. But it's gone now, along with levity and hesitancy, discarded when she closed the shades, when he blocked the entrance.

She's panting, her eyes dark and wild. His growl doesn't even contain words as he climbs over her. They kiss, but devour is a much more proper description. They are devouring each other.

He grabs her right breast and squeezes. Her hands find his back, anchoring her. As he pushes down, she pushes up. They are one. Her 'yes' melts with his sharp intake of breath. Then they are moving, trying to get closer, deeper, the bed trembling under their passion, and still, it's not enough.

Another thrust and he lets go of her hips. With one hand on the small of her back and the other between her shoulder blades he draws back, taking her with him until he's kneeling and she's straddling him. They barely miss a beat, moving to their frenetic rhythm, prisoners of a counterpoint that is almost madness, working together and against each other at the same time.

He grabs her hair and pulls her head back, exposing her throat. He bites her and with a strangled cry she comes, tensing around him. Her fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders, deeper and deeper, bringing him over the edge.

Release, but for a moment the tension keeps growing, carrying them through their orgasms and beyond, only to disappear suddenly. They fall back on the bed, tangled together, out of energy, out of breath, out of voice.

The sunset approaches. Soon they will have to join the outside world once more. The hunters will come back with their prey and there will be music. And then Atlantis, with its marvels and risks, missions and weird entertainment, warmth and rules. Rules against passion, against comfort, against what they have just shared.

~~~

Rules already broken, the pieces clear in Elizabeth's eyes whenever the doubts eat at her. But not today. Sitting at her desk in her office Elizabeth closes the last report. For a moment she waits, listening for something, some sign of an impending emergency. The quiet conversations in the Gateroom and a distant laugh have her shaking her head, a wry smile on her lips. People would say she's been out here too long, that she's become paranoid, but they don't understand. She hasn't been out here long enough, not if a quiet day in Atlantis still makes her nervous.

Another smile and she stands up. It's time to go back to her room. They're probably already waiting for her. They didn't come the night before, all wrapped up in their new toy, their new spaceship; they forgot sleep and everything else.

Approaching her quarters, she slows her pace, letting Doctor Biro pass her by. They nod to each other, but nothing else. Biro is a woman of few words and a brisk, determined walk. She always seems to have some destination she needs to reach as quickly as possible.

A few seconds and Elizabeth is alone in the corridor, just as she has hoped. As her door opens she takes a moment to savour the scene revealed by the light pouring inside the room from behind her: Rodney already asleep, sprawled face down on the bed; John seated on top of the sheets by his side, his back against the wall. Not touching, but for Rodney's left hand lying on John's stomach.

John's eyes are open, fixed on the doorway, immediately finding her own, letting her know that he's been waiting for her. There's so much they don't say, but moments like this make up for the forced silences.

"You know, sleeping is much easier without being blinded by artificial light, or any light for the matter."

Not really asleep then. Elizabeth smiles and steps inside, the door closing behind her, while John lets his pillow fall over Rodney's head.

"You're not even facing the door." He points out.

Framed by the moonlight Rodney rolls onto his back, ignoring the bait and pushing the pillow under his head.

"Can't we just go to sleep?" and he's looking at her now. Not silent, never silent, but his words are just smoke.

"Yes, Rodney, we can." She agrees with him, quickly undressing, because as commonplace as it sounds, that's what she wants as well. What John wants too, judging by his lack of ulterior teasing. He just snags back his pillow from under Rodney's head and gets under the covers.

Later they will make love. Later Rodney will touch Elizabeth with his hands and his lips, his rhapsody reverberating through her. Later Elizabeth will lead John's hand to her breast, as he tells her, tells both her and Rodney to hold on, to not let go yet in his low, sexy voice. Later, as Elizabeth kisses him, John will push inside Rodney, taking from him what they both need. Later.

For now, they sleep.

_The end_


End file.
